Chapter 25 THE PAINS
Nikolai turned slowly from the window, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the candlelit floor. Shadow lay sprawled on the floor, tail lashing in irritation, yellow eyes glowing with offended pride.
His gaze locked on Anya.
Every step he took toward her felt heavy, like a predator closing in on its prey. The air thickened, the flickering candles bowing slightly as if reacting to his presence.
"Don’t you dare call anyone else handsome," Nikolai said coldly, his voice low and dangerous. "Not while you belong to me"
Anya swallowed hard as her heart pounded against her ribs, her breath coming out in shallow, uneven gasps. Every instinct in her screamed to run, but there was nowhere to go when he can easily teleport her back.
Her fingers trembled as they slid into the pocket of her jean.
The small knife was still there.
The same one she used to keep hidden whenever her uncle used to get too close. The same one that had once made her feel just a little less helpless.
Nikolai was only a step away now, towering over her.
Before she could think better of it, she spun and drove the blade toward him.
The metal barely brushed his back and then everything went wrong.
A searing heat exploded through the handle of the knife, so sudden and violent that Anya cried out. The metal burned into her palm as if it had turned into molten iron.
She tried to drop it but she couldn’t.
Her fingers refused to let go, locking around the scorching blade as if it had fused to her skin.
A scream tore from her throat. Pain shot up her arm, white-hot and unbearable. Tears streamed down her face as she staggered back, clutching the knife, her body shaking violently.
Nikolai didn’t even flinch.
He slowly turned to face her, his expression calm, almost amused.
"That was a wrong move, little doll"
Anya collapsed to her knees, sobbing, her arm trembling violently as the burning only grew worse.
"Please…" she cried, her voice breaking. "I’m sorry… please… I didn’t mean to—just make it stop… please…"
Her skin around the handle was reddening, blistering, the pain unbearable. She tried again to release the knife, but it was like her hand was no longer hers.
Nikolai moved back to his chair and sat down with elegant ease, crossing one leg over the other. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy.
And he simply watched.
His eyes followed every shudder of her body, every tear rolling down her cheeks, every broken plea leaving her lips.
"Please… Nikolai…" she begged, gasping. “I’ll do anything… just make it stop…
But he didn’t answer, not even a single word.
The knife continued to burn in her grip, hotter and hotter, while Anya knelt on the cold floor, crying, shaking, breaking under the quiet, merciless gaze of the man who owned her fate.
And he found every second of it… fascinating.
The pain reached a point where Anya thought her hand would split apart.
Then suddenly... the knife dropped.
It clattered against the marble floor, still steaming faintly as if it had just been pulled from fire.
Anya gasped sharply, collapsing forward, clutching her burned palm to her chest. Her lungs dragged in air desperately, like she had just been pulled back from drowning.
"Oh my…" she sobbed, shaking. "Oh my…"
Relief flooded her so fast it made her dizzy. The pain was still there, throbbing and raw, but at least it was fading.
She lifted her head, tears streaking her that was when it happened.
Her arm snapped upward without her permission.
SLAP!
Her palm cracked against her own cheek.
Anya froze in horror.
"What—?"
SLAP!
Harder this time.
Her head snapped to the side, pain exploding across her face.
"No—no, stop—!"
SLAP, SLAP!
Her own hand kept striking her, again and again, like it was no longer attached to her will..
"Make it stop!" she screamed, sobbing violently. "Please! I don’t want this—please!"
She tried to grab her arm with her other hand, but her body resisted her, as if invisible strings were pulling her apart.
Nikolai sat perfectly still, one elbow resting lazily on the arm of the chair. His golden eyes never left her.
He looked… intrigued.
He studied her face with calm fascination... the tears, the fear, the way her lips trembled as she begged.
Like a scientist watching a fragile creature react to pain.
Anya collapsed to her knees again, still hitting herself, her cries turning hoarse.
"Please… Nikolai… please…"
He tilted his head slightly, observing the way her cheeks were reddening, the way her breathing broke into ragged gasps.
He simply watched her suffer.
The slapping stopped suddenly.
Anya collapsed forward again, gasping for air, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm. Her cheek burned, her throat ached from screaming, and her eyes were swollen with tears.
For a brief, fragile second, she thought it was over.
She was wrong.
Nikolai slowly stood.
The candles flickered as he moved, shadows stretching and twisting along the walls. He approached her, every step felt like a countdown.
Anya tried to crawl back, but her limbs were weak and useless.
"P-please…"she whispered.
Nikolai stopped in front of her and he raised one finger.
The tip of it glistened dark red.
Blood.
Anya’s breath hitched. Her eyes followed his hand in terrified confusion as he leaned down.
"No…" she whispered. "Don’t…"
He pressed his finger gently against her cheek and it burned.
Not like heat but like a blade sliding slowly across skin.
Anya cried out sharply, her whole body jerking as he began to move his finger, dragging it across her cheek as though he were writing on paper instead of flesh.
The blood followed every movement.
A thin, crimson line appeared where his finger passed.
She could feel it.
He was spelling something.
N.
I.
K.
O.
L.
A.
I.
Each letter carved on her cheek with cruel precision, her skin splitting just enough to bleed.
"Stop—please—" she sobbed, her voice breaking completely. "It hurts… please…"
He finished the last stroke slowly, almost lovingly, then lifted his finger away.
Blood ran down her cheek in thin, delicate lines, staining her skin, dripping on her trembling hands.
Nikolai straightened as he looked at his work.
A dark, satisfied glint flickered in his golden eyes.
Anya shook violently, clutching her face, sobbing as if her heart were being torn apart or maybe it has been.
The pain suddenly vanished all at once.
No burning.
No cutting.
No ache.
The blood on Anya’s cheek faded, the cruel letters dissolving into nothing, as if they had never been there at all. Her skin became smooth again, too clean for what she had just endured.
Her eyes fluttered and her body swayed.
Then Anya collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness before she could even feel relief.
Nikolai was already there when she fell.
He knelt beside her, catching her before her head hit the cold marble floor. Gently, almost tenderly, he laid her down, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face.
His fingers traced her cheek softly, where his name had been carved only seconds ago.
"You will be fine, little doll" he murmured quietly.
The candlelight flickered over them both.
•••
Natasha stepped lightly out of the hostel, glancing left, then right. The campus was quiet, shadows stretching between the lampposts.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes scanning every corner, every empty path. Nobody was in sight.
A soft exhale left her, almost imperceptible. Then, with a subtle ripple through her body, she began to shift. Limbs compressed and stretched, hair lengthened and darkened. Flesh and bone moved like liquid beneath her skin.
Where Natasha had stood, there was now… Anya.
She paused, letting the new form settle, blinking once.
She looked down at her hands, then touched her face, a slow and ominous smile spreading across her stolen lips.